


Five Times Trapper Kissed Hawkeye

by summercarntspel



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Idiots in Love, M/M, five times fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summercarntspel/pseuds/summercarntspel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five events in which Trapper John McIntyre kissed his partner in crime, surgery, and tomfoolery, Hawkeye Pierce, and the one time when he didn't have to kiss him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mess Tent and Exhaustion

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVEN'T WRITTEN MASH STUFF IN SO LONG HELP.
> 
> I got the idea for this and took off running idk I hope you enjoy?
> 
> A huge thanks to my dearest Lizard (rosiesbar on here) for BETA-ing and helping me out majorly. She's a marvelous author and all around good egg!

“Hawk, c'mon, you have to eat.”

It had been one of the 4077th's roughest surgery shifts in weeks, and no one felt it was necessary to bother with changing out of their surgical scrubs before trudging their way from the O.R. to the Mess Tent for some cold breakfast and some colder coffee.

Father Mulcahy nursed a mug of coffee in his hands, softly repeating how difficult the night had been, and thanking the Lord for the millionth time that they hadn't lost a single patient, in spite of having to handle several fragile cases; Henry struggled to stay conscious as he rested his head on arms folded on top of the table; Frank just sat there, staring off at nothing as he slowly lapped at his own coffee, looking to be lost in thought.

Knowing Frank, though, he was probably just plain lost.

And, of course, the table wouldn't have been complete without the camp's finest surgeons, drink mixers, and nurse inspectors. So, of course, Trapper and Hawkeye had to join.

Well, Trapper was the one who decided to join the group, and Hawkeye was too tired to care where he was being led, just as long as they got out of the O.R. The faster, the better.

“Damn it, Hawkeye! Take a bite, will'ya?”

Trapper's voice betrayed him, sounding tired and strained, but it couldn't muster up the energy to sound properly angry.

Sure, his arm was growing tired of holding their shared fork to Hawkeye's lips, and he was hungry enough to want to have his half of the tray, but getting mad about it just wasted precious energy, and he was running dangerously low on that resource right about then.

Hawkeye just made a face, his chin resting in his palm as he wrinkled up his nose, shifting away from Trapper minutely as his glassy blue eyes struggled to stay open.

“No... let me sleep, Trap...” the doctor practically begged, his voice gruff and his speech a bit slurred.

Trapper rolled his eyes, clearly exhausted and sure he wanted to go to sleep just as much, but he blamed his instincts for not allowing it. His unconscious ability for taking care of people, which seemed to come out of its shell quite a lot when he got around his partner in crime, wouldn't dare let him sleep without getting something in both their stomachs.

Besides, the rot-gut he knew was waiting for them in the still was marginally easier to handle on a fuller belly.

“Y'can grab your forty winks just as soon as y'chow down, kiddo,” Trapper promised, his voice turning a bit softer than he expected, and he nudged the forkful of powdered eggs against Hawkeye's lips once again.

Hawkeye finally relented, blinking owlishly at Trapper as he chewed the bite. As he swallowed, he slowly wiggled himself into a more comfortable position at the table, rolling his head from its perch in his palm to rest against Trapper's broad shoulder instead.

“Mm, 'ats my boy,” Trapper praised jokingly, offering Hawkeye a crooked smile when the latter took the next bite offered to him without any coaxing on Trapper's part.

Frank was now watching the two of them, and he scoffed loudly at the sight. He didn't understand what on earth the pair of degenerates were doing, and he didn't understand why he seemed to be the only one to notice, let alone care.

“McIntyre, what do you think you're doing?” the major questioned, figuring he might as well try to solve the mystery. He watched with narrow eyes as Trapper began switching between feeding Hawkeye and feeding himself, taking a gulp or two of coffee before he brought the off-white mug to the other captain's mouth and let him take his own swig.

“I think I'm tryin' t'get this slop down before a hibernation session. What do you think I'm doin'?”

“I think you're being disgusting!” Frank informed him bluntly in response, “Sharing a fork like that is hardly sanitary, and feeding Pierce like some infant is even worse!”

Trapper just rolled his eyes again, this time rolling them so hard it almost looked like it hurt him, and held up the fork for Hawkeye to polish off the last bite of the eggs before he lifted the utensil away from him, pointing it in Frank's direction instead.

“You quiet up or I'll shove this unsanitary fork where the sun don't shine.”

Frank started to protest, but settled for just glaring at Trapper over the lip of his mug, his head shaking slowly.

Hawkeye nestled a little closer to Trapper, letting a soft sigh escape him a moment later.

“You promised bedtime if I finished my food,”

The other captain nodded, gently pushing Hawkeye away just enough for him to stand and set their tray down on top of Frank's loudly before he offered Hawkeye his arm.

“C'mon, darlin', let's get you into bed for your beauty sleep,” Trapper drawled, putting on a heavy southern accent. He smirked when Hawkeye feigned a swoon and fell into him, their arms locking together comfortably a moment later.

As Frank began his normal, whining noises of complaint and Henry responded by grunting and asking Frank to stop being so cranky so early in the morning, please, Trapper led Hawkeye out of the Mess Tent and into the Swamp, making a grand show of holding the door open for him, and grinning like a damn fool when the other let out a sleepy, happy little giggle as he shuffled inside.

“Alright, sack time,” Trapper announced, stripping down to his shorts and t-shirt when Hawkeye did the same, watching as Hawkeye tugged on his robe for comfort before they both fell back onto their cots, decidedly ready to nap.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed, and Trapper was already beginning to drift pleasantly, his mind and body definitely more than happy to get away from consciousness for a little while, then the sound of Hawkeye's cot creaking as he rolled over reached his eyes, followed by Hawkeye's tired voice.

“Hey, Trap?”

Trapper's eyes fluttered briefly, then opened wide, his head turning on the pillow so he could focus on his bunkie with bleary eyes.

“Uh huh?”

Hawkeye smiled, his obvious exhaustion making the expression struggle to reach his eyes properly, “Thanks for busting your ass to take care of me, even if it just gets you a lecture from the king of the ferrets.”

Trapper chuckled, pushing himself up from his cot and hurrying to Hawkeye's instead, leaning down to press a quick, gentle peck to Hawkeye's forehead.

“Not a problem,” Trapper assured him, his nose crinkling as he winked down at the other man, “Seein' Frank get mad over it makes it twice as fun, and I'd enjoy kickin' the shit out of him if he got too rough with you.”

Hawkeye laughed, shaking his head and carefully bringing his hands up, one tangling in Trapper's messy curls and the other gently settling on the nape of his neck to tug Trapper down closer.

 

“Aw, you aren't gonna give me a proper kiss goodnight? I'm disappointed now!”

“It's nine in the damn morning,” Trapper snorted, leaning in to close the small gap between their lips, letting the gentle pressure linger for a second or two before he pulled back, “So you're lucky I love ya.”

Hawkeye just grinned again, taking the chance to kiss Trapper once, twice more while he was right there, then he released Trapper from his grip.

“And I love you, you handsome devil. Goodnight.”

“Mhm, nighty night,” Trapper sighed, traveling back to his own bunk and laying back down, “Don't let the bed bugs, or the fleas, bite.”

His advice, he realized, fell on deaf ears, as he heard one of Hawkeye's soft, barely audible little snores a moment later.

As he closed his eyes and listened to his partner's slow, even breathing, he decided that if Hawkeye was lucky to have him around, Trapper was at least twice as lucky to have Hawkeye.

He was sure of that.


	2. Mail Call and Homesickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye gets homesick and Trapper very quickly learns that he doesn't know how to help.

At 08:00, Radar had walked around the camp, handing out letters and small packages from home to just about everybody.

At 08:16, Hawkeye received a letter from his father and immediately tore it open.

At 08:24, Hawkeye fell back on his cot and laid there in total silence, hands over his eyes and entire body fighting to curl into a ball

At 08:27, Trapper realized Hawkeye wasn't planning on moving from this position, and he figured it was time for him to ask the question Hawkeye probably didn't want to hear.

“Everything alright?”

Hawkeye didn't move, didn't even let a single finger twitch as he responded with a soft, but certain, “No.”

Trapper nodded, setting down the letter he'd gotten from his wife, complete with some crayon drawings on the back from his girls, and turned to face his bunkie properly. 

“Anythin' I can get'cha?” Trapper asked, not entirely sure of what to do in this situation. He'd seen Hawkeye go into his moods before, but he never quite knew what to do or how to make him feel better.

Hawkeye removed his hands from his eyes, resting them in his lap as he turned to look at Trapper. He looked fairly normal - tired, a little hungover, and generally grumpy - but there was also a distinct sadness behind his eyes that wasn't normally there. In fact, he looked like he was ready to cry.

“If you happen to have a noose and a strong tree limb in your back pocket, I'd like to borrow them.”

Trapper snorted, rolling his eyes and swung himself around, his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands as he stared at Hawkeye, “Funny.”

“It's not supposed to be.”

“Oh, c'mon, Hawk,” Trapper sighed, reaching to fill one of the martini glasses with their latest batch of moonshine, “Have a drink. Drown your sorrows.”

Hawkeye narrowed his eyes and shook his head, rolling his entire body onto its side so that he faced away from Trapper. Jesus, he'd kill for just a _little_ sympathy, but that was obviously too much to ask.

A few moments passed and Trapper shrugged, downing the drink he'd poured before he set the glass down and sighed, pushing himself up off the bed. He still didn't really know what to do, but letting Hawkeye just lie there in an obviously unsettled and angry state just didn't seem right.

“Alright, so you don't want booze,” Trapper observed, carefully kneeling down on the empty space on the edge of Hawkeye's cot before he stretched out on his side, leaving a couple inches of a gap between Hawkeye's back and his front as he set a hand on the other's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner, “You want some lovin'?”

Hawkeye scoffed, wiggling as far away from the hand as he dared, setting a hand on the floor to keep himself from tumbling right off the cot, still stubbornly looking at the rolled up tent flaps.

“I have never wanted sex less than I do right now, thanks,” Hawkeye answered, the sinking feeling in his belly twisting into an unpleasant knot. He wasn't mad at Trapper, not really, but Trapper was the closest thing he could yell at while appearing sane, so he'd take what he could get.

Trapper knew about the boundaries he should have with touching Hawkeye, especially in broad daylight, but this seemed like it should be taken as an exception to the rule. So, after taking a deep breath to steady himself and help to calm the heavy, nervous pounding of his heart in his chest, Trapper wrapped his arms around Hawkeye's waist and dragged him close, not stopping until their bodies were flush against one another.

“Get your hands _off_ me,” Hawkeye shouted, flailing his arms and kicking his legs wildly, fighting for a good minute and a half and pushing Trapper away from him, maybe a bit too harshly, “I said I wasn't in the mood.”

“Okay, alright, sorry...” Trapper apologized quickly, squirming away so they weren't touching and crossing his arms over his chest. He knew better than to push with too much touching, too much affection. Hawkeye had only ever told him no like that once before, and when he assumed Hawk was kidding, Trapper wound up with a slap in the face and a best friend who didn't talk to him for three whole days.

Hawkeye stayed silent for a few moments, not allowing himself to relax just yet as he stayed rigid, still not touching the other man anywhere, but feeling his presence. He was loathed to admit it, but it made him feel a little better.

“You're the biggest pain in the can I've ever met,” Hawkeye insisted, squirming a tiny bit closer and finally, finally grabbing one of Trapper's hands in his own, tangling their fingers together and resting their joined hands over his flank.

Trapper rolled his eyes, splaying his fingers over Hawkeye's rib cage and tugging him impossibly closer, now that he had been given proper permission.“Will'ya just tell me what crawled up your shorts? I think I got a right to know, since I'm usually the one crawlin' up 'em.”

Hawkeye wanted to shove him, to scream at him for being insensitive and making a big joke out of the whole thing, but he knew that would be hypocritical to the millionth degree.

And it wasn't that Hawkeye overly minded being hypocritical, he just didn't think he could muster up the energy for it right then, that was all.

“I'm homesick.” 

The miserable captain finally let himself lean into Trapper, resting the back of his head against Trapper's shoulder and letting Trapper hold him close, Trapper's chin hooking over his own shoulder, feeling Trapper's stubble graze his skin.

He took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall closed. “My dad writes me letters letting me know about everyone in the entire Cove and all it does is make me want to be home. He thinks he's doing me a favor, you know? He thinks telling me about how girls I went to school with are getting married or having babies or about the Peterson family down the street taking in a new cat or whatever else is going to make me miss home a little less, but all it does is make me feel empty.”

Trapper let out a slow sigh, nodding minutely and giving Hawkeye a little squeeze. He understood, at least to some degree. Every time he got a little picture Kathy drew or a tiny note from Becky, he missed them terribly. He also missed his wife when she wrote, even if most of their conversations were vague and included fights that lasted for several letters in a row.

He had to admit, Louise was sharp as a tack, and when he went into too much detail about a new nurse or even too much detail about his friendship with Hawkeye, she found him out, and fast. All he could do was hope she avoided the big 'D' until he was home from the war.

Getting a 'Dear John' letter would be a hell of a blow to his ego.

He knew it had to be different for Hawkeye, though. Hawkeye was very close to his father. Hell, his father was the only real family he had, besides Trapper himself, and family in the middle of a war zone was totally opposite from family back home.

But, family was still family, no matter how different and not perfect it all was, so Trapper knew he had to take care of his poor, homesick little soldier.

“It's gonna be okay, Hawk... You'll be back there soon, y'know? You'll know all that stuff firsthand before ya know it. You'll be the first to find out about the Petersons and their new cat. You just gotta hold on a little longer. You can do it, too. You're a strong guy.”

Hawkeye let out a self-deprecating chuckle and closed his eyes, trying to keep tears from spilling out and trying to keep Trapper from finding out that he was holding the tears back. 

“Me? Strong? I'm a puddle of self-loathing, Trap."

Trapper sighed, tapping the tips of his fingers along Hawkeye's prominent ribs in a discordant beat before he maneuvered them so that he could look at Hawkeye properly, his hands circling around Hawkeye's lower back once they settled down in that position.

“Okay, so you aren't so strong right now, but that's okay,” Trapper insisted, their noses nearly touching as he gazed into Hawkeye's eyes, his own uncharacteristically warm and his smile gentle, “I can be strong enough for the both'a us. You lean on me and I won't let'cha fall.”

Hawkeye let that sink in for a second, more tears threatening to dribble over before he brought a hand up to paw them away, a small smile playing on his lips when he finally allowed himself to look back into Trapper's eyes, letting himself get lost in their warmth.

“I don't care what the rest of them say about you, you're a pretty alright guy,” Hawkeye teased, leaning forward to brush the tips of their noses together as he brought his hands up to Trapper's back, holding him just where he wanted him.

And Trapper just smiled, leaning forward to close the gap between their lips with a sweet little kiss, resting his forehead against Hawkeye's when they pulled apart once again. He wasn't one to kiss Hawkeye out of the blue too often, unless he was looking for something more, but the more he did it, the more he realized he enjoyed it.

And, honestly, kissing Hawkeye was something he already enjoyed quite a bit, so surprise kisses were even better.

“You feel a little better now?” he asked, using his knuckles to gently dig at the tension hidden in the other doctor's back as he continued to hold him close, enjoying the feeling of their bodies being pressed together.

Hawkeye nodded, burrowing his face in Trapper's broad chest and letting his entire body turn to mush in Trapper's capable embrace, “Mmm... yup. Think I'll take a nap before lunch now. Feel free to join me.”

So, Trapper just nodded and tugged him even closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of Hawkeye's head before he settled down against the pillow on the cot and just let Hawkeye lie there, more than happy to be the other's oversized teddy bear until he felt a little more like himself. Or a pillow, if that's what Hawkeye wanted, and the quiet, even breaths the other was puffing out against his chest told him that the second option was Hawkeye's choice for the moment.


End file.
